


Lost Time

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Disapproving Parents, Drama, F/M, Family, Reunion, Sex, Smut, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 14:29:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17920586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: The last Dean had seen of her was seconds after she broke his heart. Sixteen years later, a ghoul hunt brings an interesting encounter.





	Lost Time

Sam couldn’t see a damn thing. There was only one ghoul left, he was certain, and he could hear Dean calling for him from the other side of the building. His position was vulnerable - he had one bullet left in his gun and he’d dropped his machete somewhere. The gun would only slow the ghoul down.

Something slammed shut to his right and Sam turned, squinting in the darkness. A flash of light and he stumbled backward, landing hard on his back.

The ghoul sprang, pinning him down and his gun skittered away out of reach. He yelled, grappling with the monster as it snapped its teeth inches from his face.

“Hey!” A flashlight shone over them.

Both Sam and the ghoul turned to see a young boy stood a few feet away. He couldn’t have been older than high-school age and the gun in his hands was Sam’s. The creature laughed, not afraid of the gun, keeping one hand around Sam’s throat as he fought to get free.

“I didn’t realize it was bring your kids to work day,” the ghoul commented, cackling with murderous intent.

“Actually,” another voice said and Sam’s eyes widened as he recognized the woman standing above him, “he brought me.” The swish of the machete and the crunch of bone and flesh matched the ghoul’s surprised expression. His head tumbled from his neck, splattering Sam’s shirt with gore.

“Sammy!” Dean’s screech echoed in the darkness and Sam pushed the dead ghoul off, getting to his feet. He stared at the woman, unsure if he was imagining it. The boy held his flashlight up and called “Mom” softly, catching her attention.

Dean burst through the door, gun aimed and flashlight adding to the glare in the room, forcing Sam to cover his eyes. The elder Winchester looked at the two other people in the room, his gaze stopping on the woman as recognition flooded his eyes, followed by a multitude of emotions Sam couldn’t figure out.

“Y/N?”

She swallowed, glancing at the boy. “Matty, go wait in the car.”

The kid’s shoulders slumped and his face dropped in disappointment. “But, Mom -”

“Go,” she ordered, fixing her eyes on Dean, “we’ll talk in a minute.”

Dean was stood ramrod straight, staring at her in confusion. Y/N closed her eyes for a second, waiting until Matty had handed the gun back to Sam and shuffled out of the room. His footsteps echoed out of sight and when they were gone, she took a breath.

“Hi, Dean.”

His mouth opened and closed several times as he tried to think what to say. Sixteen years had passed since he’d lays eyes on her - for all he knew, she was dead. Another hunter lost to the life.

The lack of answer made her nervous and Y/N shifted onto her other foot, rubbing her arm and looking anywhere but him. “Okay, yeah, I get the silent treatment.”

“What do you expect me to say?”

Sam was utterly lost. “I’m sorry, I’m a little confused,” he murmured, holding up a hand. Dean frowned at him, tilting his head.

Y/N cleared her throat. “I really don’t want to leave Matthew outside on his own too long,” she announced, inching toward the door. “Sorry for busting in your hunt, if I’d known -”  _I would have stayed very clear of you_. The words remained unspoken; Y/N smiled apologetically and bolted.

It took two seconds for the Winchesters to follow her.

*****

You couldn’t take the stairs fast enough. Expecting the Winchesters to stay behind when they had questions was about as likely as rocking horse shit and you didn’t know if you had any answers for them.

Not ones they’d want to hear anyway.

“Matty!” you called, making it out of the warehouse to where Matthew was waiting. He span on his heel, opening his arms.

“What?!”

“We need to go.”

“Mom, who were those guys?” your son demanded, digging his heels in as he refused to budge. The car was only a few feet away. “Mom!”

“What?” you growled, eyes darting back to the warehouse door where Dean and Sam would appear any second.

Matthew clenched his jaw, the action making your stomach flip. “That guy,” he said slowly, “you called him Dean.”

“Yeah, I did, honey.” The door of the warehouse opened and every hope you had of getting away from the drama was stalled. “But we  _really_  need to go.”

“No.”

You groaned, pulling on his sleeve again. “Matty -”

“No, Mom!”

Oh god. Oh god.

You felt like you were going to throw up.

“You called him Dean!” Matthew accused, obviously angry now and your heart sank; he hadn’t seen or heard the two men behind him, well within earshot. “Mom, is that Dean Winchester?” He paused and you wanted a hole to open up and swallow you whole. “Is that my dad?”

“Yes.”

One little word and your whole world shattered. Matthew stared at you, betrayal written across his face, Dean and Sam behind him, matching expressions of shock. Taking one step forward, you reached out but your son flinched away. “You told me he was dead.”

Now the betrayal was on Dean’s face.

“I can explain,” you stuttered, tears filling your eyes.

Of all the ways you’d imagined seeing Dean again, this was not it.

“Can you?” Dean shot, folding his arms over his chest. “Because this… this needs some explaining.”

All three of them were staring at you now, the same scowl on each of their faces. Figuring out how to explain it was one thing; getting the words out was another. “This… this really isn’t the place,” you mumbled, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Please, can we just…”

“No,” Matthew ground out. “I wanna know, Mom. You told me my father was dead. That he died years ago.”

“He did!” you defended, gesturing to Dean, who blinked in surprise. “He just… came back.” The look your son gave you was enough to kill and you wilted. “I didn’t… look, I shouldn’t have lied to you. I just thought it was safer -”

Matthew snorted derisively, stomping past you to the car, leaving you to the two Winchester brothers. Dean arched an eyebrow, waiting for you to speak first but Sam beat you to it.

“Okay, this is crazy,” he said, standing between his brother and you.

“What’s crazy is having a teenage son I know nothing about,” Dean snapped, glaring at you.

In some situations, you could remain cool as a cucumber; this was not one of those situation. The tears were coming thick and fast, choking every word you tried to say. Sam’s expression twisted with sympathy. “Dean, why don’t we follow Y/N back to her motel? Give her a chance to catch her breath.”

Dean looked like he was on the cusp of arguing and Sam glared at him, silently backing him down. “Fine,” he grunted, looking away toward your car and the teenager sat sulking in the passenger seat. “Where’s your motel?”

*****

Matthew hadn’t said a word for ten minutes since you’d driven away from the brothers, heading back to your motel. You’d agreed to meet them at the diner nearby, mainly because a public setting was preferable. After so many years, you didn’t know Dean anymore, or Sam for that matter, and you couldn’t rule out violence as a possibility.

God knows, you and Dean had shared more than your fair share of fights. Usually together, not against each other, but you didn’t know this man. He seemed so much darker, hardened, nothing like the free spirited kids you’d been.

“You know,” you started, guiding the car into the parking lot, “if you don’t talk to me, I can’t answer your questions.” The kid snorted, rolling his eyes and you turned the ignition off, looking over at him. “Please, Matthew.”

He turned sharply, fixing bright green angry eyes on you. “All my life, you told me the truth. Or I thought you did. I can’t believe you told me my dad was dead!” His voice grew louder as he spoke, frustrated tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Matthew, I’m gonna explain everything, I promise!” you insisted but he was already getting out of the car, slamming the door. The Impala was pulling in behind you as you got out, chasing after your son. He shrugged your hand off when you grabbed his shoulder, stomping off toward the diner across the street. You stopped, watching him go, tears staining your cheeks as Dean and Sam approached from behind.

“You okay?” Sam asked softly and you nodded, wiping at your face with your jacket sleeve. Without looking at them, you started after Matthew, hearing the gravel crunch under the two men’s feet as they followed you.

The diner was empty - it was near midnight so that wasn’t surprising. Matthew had slunk into the booth at the far end by the window and you approached cautiously, sliding into the seat opposite him. He looked out of the window, ignoring you completely.

Sam and Dean were quick to join, the former sliding in beside you, ordering coffees when the waitress approached. You ordered a coffee for yourself and a soda for Matthew, who hadn’t quite discovered the benefits of caffeine. Once, when he was ten, he’d asked to try your coffee and had promptly told you it tasted like rotten death.

Silence reigned as you waited for your drinks and when the waitress brought them back, you could tell she was uncomfortable. Even when Dean flashed her his winning smile, the one that all the ladies loved, she couldn’t get out of there quick enough.

“So,” Sam started, somewhat nervously, “Matthew is -” He let the prompt hang and you put your coffee cup down as Matthew turned his head.

“Sixteen,” you murmured.

“And you hunt?” Dean asked, his tone more than a little accusing.

“You did,” you retorted coldly. “I did. Sam did.”

Matthew slammed his hand on the table. “I can speak for myself,” he said, his voice clear over the silence he’d commanded. Dean turned his head to look at him, surprised at the young man’s outburst. You sighed, leaning one arm on the table and dropping your head into your hand as you realized what was coming next. “I’m not a kid. If I wanna hunt, I’ll hunt.”

Your eyes met Dean’s, his shock palpable and you felt a tiny bit of satisfaction that Matthew was treating him exactly the way he treated you. Numerous times, you’d tried to talk him out of hunting and lately, you’d been losing more and more of the arguments.

“Hunting isn’t a game,” Dean warned in a low voice.

“He won’t listen,” you said, sounding bored. “He’s as stubborn as you are. And for the record, this is only his fifth hunt.”

“Sixth!” Matthew argued, sitting up straight. “And that last one, if it wasn’t for me, you’d have been eaten by a werewolf.”

“A werewolf?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“It was super cool,” Matthew gushed.

“No,” you sighed. “If it wasn’t for  _you_ , I would have been at home with my feet up watching Game Of Thrones,  _not_  wrestling with a three-hundred-pound werewolf in Wyoming!” Realizing your voice had gotten louder, attracting the attention of other patrons, you slumped in your seat. “I’m just sayin’, this is not all on me.”

“You’re his mom,” Sam pointed out gently, earning himself a glare for his trouble.

“Yes because  _you_  always did what John told you,” you spat. “I’m his mom. That doesn’t make him automatically obey me.”

“Why do you even wanna hunt?” Sam asked, focusing his attention on Matthew. “It’s bloody, gory, dangerous -”

Matthew snorted and rolled his eyes, folding his arms over his chest and giving off all of the attitude in the world he could muster. Dean stared at him, his mouth open. “Christ, Sammy, it’s like looking at you when you were a kid all over again.”

“Your father would probably say the same about you,” you muttered, sipping at your coffee without looking at the eldest Winchester. Dean’s attention moved to you and you squirmed, knowing you still had all the details to fill in. “Look, this isn’t how I wanted anyone to meet,” you started, focusing your eyes on your drink. “I think… maybe we should start at the beginning, after -”

“After you left,” Dean stated.

You nodded, meeting his gaze with a guilty expression. “After I left.”

*****

_St. Louis, 2002_

Beer bottles were strewn across the floor, along with scattered pizza boxes and candy wrappers. Left alone with no supervision, you and Dean had hustled pool at a local bar before pigging out on the spoils of your victory.

An arm was draped over your waist and you smiled, turning to face the sleeping lump behind you. Dean didn’t so much as flinch, his steady snoring continuing as you watched him.

Untangling yourself was easy and you got to your feet, tip toeing across the room from the mattress you and Dean had spent the night on. You quickly used the bathroom, shivering as you returned to Dean’s warm side.

“Hmmm,” he murmured, rolling into you as you snuggled under the blankets with him again, “good morning.”

His erection pressed into your thigh and you giggled, wrapping your cold hands around his waist. He hissed at the chill, eyes popping open and glaring at you. “You’re evil.”

“You love it,” you whispered, sliding your hands down to tease the tip of his cock through his boxer shorts. “You know my dad is gonna come looking for me sooner or later.”

Dean scoffed, turning so he was on his back, his arm dragging you into his side. Taking advantage of the position, you slipped your hand inside his boxers, draping your fingers over his rigid shaft. He groaned, side-eyeing you. “You told him the hunt was taking longer than you thought it would, right?”

“Yeah. But that won’t stop him getting impatient and coming to find me.”

A frustrated sigh left Dean’s lips, his fingertips grazing over your bare shoulder. “My dad text me this morning. Said he’s got a case in California, said sorry for missing my birthday.” He paused, looking a little irritated. “Again.”

You didn’t know what to say to that - since his brother left him to go to college, you’d been seeing more of the elder Winchester boy. And you weren’t complaining about that but his dad’s more frequent abandonment and his main priority off living a life without him… Dean was weighed down with more than he’d ever confess to you.

The best method with Dean was to distract him.

Curling your fingers, you move your hand in a steady stroke up and down his cock, eliciting a sweet little moan from his plump lips. “How about you let me give you some more birthday present?” Dean remained still as you ducked under the covers, dragging his boxers down and letting his cock spring free. When you licked at the tip, he grunted, his dick twitching in your fingers.

“I am in no way objecting,” he murmured, closing his eyes as you started to lick and suck at his shaft, caressing his balls with your fingers.

Lifting yourself up, you straddled his thighs, bobbing your head enthusiastically as he struggled to keep his composure, clinging to the sheets and groaning loudly. You moaned around his cock, taking him as deep as you could, relishing his sounds.

“Y/N,” Dean gasped, “will you get your delectable pussy on my dick already?”

His cock fell from your lips with a wet sucking sound and Dean snarled, his eyes locked on you as you shifted, raising your hips and letting the covers fall behind you. With one hand around his cock, you guided him to your cunt, both of you groaning in tandem as you sank down onto him.

“Fuck,” he murmured, resting his hands on your thighs, clenching his fingers against your skin. “Always so wet for me, baby.”

You grinned, rolling your hips enough to give him a taste of what was to come and Dean arched, tilting his chin up, his eyes fluttering closed. Keeping the pace, you leaned over, closing the space between you and crashing your mouth into his in a desperate kiss.

It didn’t take long to wrangle his climax from him, your own dragged out by the warmth of his release inside you. Dean laughed a smile against your lips, running one hand through your long messy hair. “I love you,” he murmured and you smiled back, kissing him again.

“Y/N!”

A loud banging at the door of the abandoned building made you and him both look up, shock on your faces. It took a second for the noise to register, your father’s voice booming through the hallway downstairs as he entered the property.

“Fuck,” you hissed, prompting Dean to pull you off of his dick, wincing at the sensitivity. Your dad was stomping up the stairs now, still calling for you, almost like a slow motion car crash.

The door slammed open just as Dean got his pants on and you had managed a t-shirt and some panties.

“Dad!” Your outraged shriek prompted your dad to turn his back on your half-dressed state. “What the hell!”

“You told me you were on a hunt!” he accused, as you hurried to dress yourself. “I didn’t think you were shacking up with him!”

Dean looked offended and you threw him a warning look. He knew you could handle this and didn’t need him to defend your honor. “I’m not  _shacking_  up with anyone. It was Dean’s birthday and we finished the hunt -”

“So you thought you’d take time off and do - do -” He made a disgusted sound, turning as you got your pants on. “I thought I could trust you, Y/N. You said you were handling the hunts -”

“I am!” you snapped, interrupting him. “I’m still a person, Dad! I still have friends and, and, boyfriends!” Your cheeks felt like they were on fired as you argued; you and Dean had never discussed exclusivity, just enjoying your time with each.

“Boyfriend?” your father blinked in surprise. “You think I’m gonna stand here and let you get dragged into that family?” You groaned at the same repetitive argument that came up every time you so much as mentioned the name ‘Winchester’. His dislike of John was famous, almost as famous as John’s dislike for him. “Get your things, we’re going.”

“What?” you growled. “Dad, I’m an adult. I don’t have to be at your side twenty-four seven!”

“Like hell are you staying here with him!”

Dean scowled, unable to keep his mouth shut anymore. “I’m sorry, sir, but she’s not -”

Your father’s eyes filled with fury as he glared at Dean, cutting him off. “If I want to hear anything out of your mouth, boy, I’ll ask. She’s my goddamn daughter and you’ll have nothing to do with her.” He jutted his chin up as he looked at you. “Get your things.”

Tears filled your eyes and you turned your head to Dean, feeling them spill over. “Can I have five minutes?” you asked quietly, hating the hurt that broke out on the other young hunter’s face. His jaw clenched and your father sighed heavily.

“Five minutes. If you aren’t outside, there’ll be trouble.”

You didn’t look at him as he walked away, his boots thudding across the floorboards and disappearing downstairs. Dean’s hands cupped your face, forcing you to lift your eyes to his. “You don’t have to do this,” he said, brushing away your tears with his thumbs. “Stay with me. We can go anywhere. Do anything. Just us.”

“What about your dad?” you replied, shaking your head. “He’s not exactly gonna react any better than mine.” He opened his mouth to argue but you stopped him, pressing the tips of your fingers against his lips. “And don’t tell me you couldn’t care less. I know you, Dean. Family is everything to you. Your dad’s mission - that’s important to you. I’m not gonna stand in the way of that.”

“Then we carry on doing what we’ve been doing,” he pleaded, clutching your hands between his. “Who cares what they think?”

“My dad won’t trust me with a solo hunt after this,” you sobbed, shaking your head again, the tears coming thick and fast. “I’m sorry, Dean.” You pulled back. “I have to go.”

“Y/N,” Dean gasped, clinging to your hands, “I -”

“Don’t,” you begged, snatching your hands out of his. “Please. Don’t.”

He didn’t say it, his green eyes filling with emotion but even as a single tear escaped, you saw his walls going back up. You’d hurt him, probably more than any girl had before. But you knew that there was no getting around your father. He’d kill Dean before letting you be with him.

Grabbing your back, you stuffed your belongings into it, dragging your shoes on, all without looking at Dean. When you stood straight, he hadn’t moved, but his expression had turned to stone.

“Goodbye, Dean,” you whispered, trying not to cry when he ignored you, not even bothering to look at you.

Your dad was sat in the car, a scowl on his face when you slipped into the backseat, staring back at the house. Fantasies of making it work with Dean, of being with him and neither of your fathers caring faded away into nothing as the house disappeared into the rearview mirror.

*****

“I found out three months later. My dad checked me into hospital when I didn’t recover from the flu.” You ran your fingers around the edge of the coffee cup. “When he found out, he wasn’t happy. To say the least.”

“Did…” Dean couldn’t seem to the form the question he wanted to ask, clearing his throat several times. “Did he know who the father was?”

“He took a wild guess and came up right,” you said quietly, meeting Dean’s gaze. “I begged him to let me find you. But he took me to Nova Scotia, to the old family cabin.” A rattling breath left your lips. “He did what he thought was best. I can’t stay angry at him for that.”

Matthew was watching you, frowning deeply. “You never told me.”

You reached across the table, taking his hand. “You idolised your grandpa, honey. I wasn’t going to take that away from you.”

“When did he die?” Sam asked softly and you smiled, looking down at your coffee.

“I was seven,” Matthew filled in, sitting back and pulling his hand from your grip. “Vampire attack in North Carolina. Mom tried everything but -” You sucked in a breath, closing your eyes. That hunt had been rough; you and your dad left Matthew at a motel that time and afterwards, you’d almost quit for good.

Dean remained unusually quiet, watching you closely. “If it was your dad stopping you,” Sam frowned, tilting his head slightly, “then why didn’t you come and find us after he’d, er, gone?” Matthew’s eyes burned into you as you started to answer, stuttering a little.

“Dad kept me pretty well guarded,” you admitted. “When I was on my own again, I focused everything on Matty. For a little while, we settled down, tried to make a go of a normal life. That, and I couldn’t get in touch with anyone. Ellen was gone, Bobby’s house was gone and none of the numbers I had worked.”

“But you ended up hunting again?” Dean muttered, still clearly disapproving.

Matthew glared at him. “The monsters found us,” he defended. “Hunting was my choice.”

“I made friends with a group of hunters in the North West,” you informed the brothers, trying not to feel too hurt by Dean’s judgemental tone. Matthew had grown up on starry-eyed stories from your father, some from you about his own and he wanted nothing more than to do good in the world. “After the demons attacked our cabin, we had nothing. Nowhere to go. The hunters that saved us took us in.”

“Demons?”

You waved a hand at Sam’s questioning tone. “My dad made more than a few enemies. And since he’s gone -” Sighing, you glanced at your son, your mouth setting into a thin line. “When I lost Dad, I tried to find you. And all I could find out was that you were dead. So I moved on. Another hunter told me you were alive, both of you, but I… what was I supposed to do? I didn’t even know if you remembered me.”

Dean’s gaze was steel. “I remembered you.”

Sam touched your hand, smiling warmly, trying to distract from his brother’s sour mood. “Couldn’t forget my best study buddy,” he commented and you smiled back.

Matthew yawned widely and you frowned. “I think you need to go to bed, buddy. You’ve had three late nights on the trot and like it or not, you need sleep.” He grumbled at your suggestion and Sam perked up.

“Why don’t I walk Matthew back to his room?” he offered and you smiled, nodding.

Casting a look Dean’s way, Sam got to his feet. Dean slid from his seat, letting Matthew out of the booth. You tossed the boy your keycard to the motel room. “I will be back soon. Do not stay up watching tv.”

Another grumble followed that and Sam chuckled. “I’ll stay with him awhile if you like? I’d kinda like to get to know my nephew.” He clapped a hand on Matthew’s shoulder and the kid brightened - after hearing so much about them, you knew he’d want to ask every question under the sun.

Neither you or Dean spoke as you both watched Sam and Matthew walk back to the motel. When they’d disappeared out of sight, you met his eyes, sighing lightly.

“If I could go back and change it -” you started but his jaw clenched and he looked down at his drink.

“He looks like my dad,” he murmured, wetness in his eyes.

You reached out, taking his hand, ignoring the flinch when your skin came into contact with his. “I wanted to tell you, Dean, I did. I fought my dad tooth and nail. I told Matthew everything I knew about you.” Dragging your hand away, you looked out of the window. “He’s so much like you sometimes.”

Dean managed a half-smile at that. “That must be a nightmare.”

“You have no idea,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “Look, I don’t expect you to forgive me. I tried, I really did, but when I was told you were dead…” The pain of that night still ached in your chest, even though it had been years. Your father had broken the news and you’d been inconsolable. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

He huffed, pursing his lips and shrugging. “Sometimes I can’t either.”

Silence fell again but this time, Dean took your hand, offering you a hopeful smile. You took a moment, really looking at him - he’d aged exceptionally well, they both had. He was still handsome, still carried some of that boyish style you’d loved about him.

You’d never stopped loving Dean Winchester. No man could ever come close.

“Wanna split a slice of pie?” he asked quietly and you smiled, nodding, watching him get up and saunter across the diner.

It was hard to ignore the spark of hope in your chest. To shut out the girlish fantasies that you still kept close to your heart.

All you wanted was for Matthew to have a dad. That would be more than enough.

For an hour, you sat in the diner with Dean, telling him everything. He shared stories in return, some that made your eyebrows raise. The things he done and seen were astounding, putting your measly little life into perspective.

Eventually, you both paid up, walking side by side back to the motel. At your door, you both stopped, shuffling uncomfortably on the spot. “I guess I should terf Sam out,” you quipped and Dean smiled, watching as you unlocked the door and walked in.

Sam and Matthew were out cold on the opposite beds. You stopped in the doorway, fingers clasping the handle as you stared at the cute scene.

“Huh,” Dean mumbled, raising an eyebrow from behind you. “Guess you lost your bed.”

“Should I wake them?”

Dean cast a cautious eye over his brother, smiling softly. “No. Sam’s been short on sleep since the whole Michael thing. Leave him be.” He jerked his head toward the other end of the motel. “You can have his bed if you want.”

“You sure?” you asked, hesitant to accept the offer. “I mean, I know we’re not -”

“Honestly?” he interrupted, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m not all that tired. And I kinda… wanna talk more? If that’s okay?”

The smile that bloomed on your lips was uncontrollable and you nodded. “Just let me get a few things.”

*****

_Two months later_

You woke when lips pressed against your shoulder, Dean’s mumbled  _good morning_  followed by a shift of the bed. His footsteps echoed across the bedroom floor and you snuggled down into the covers, knowing he’d be back.

The first night, you did nothing but talk. It was funny how after so long, the candle you’d held for him was still burning bright. There wasn’t any falling into bed although you decided to pack up and move to their bunker. Dean wasn’t exactly happy about Matthew’s continued interest in hunting but he wasn’t about to let him out of his sight.

Matthew was overjoyed to finally have the chance to connect with his family. His attitude to you remained cool for days after the move and these days, you barely saw him between Dean, Sam and Jack monopolizing his time. The nephilim had taken to Matthew like a little brother would and watching them bond was more than you could have hoped.

Old habits died hard with the Winchester family; you found yourself in Dean’s bed less than a month after you’d moved in. Now, there wasn’t a night you didn’t spend in the same bed and it was… so much easier.

You were fairly certain your dad would have approved of the man Dean had become. He wasn’t without his flaws but after everything he’d seen and done, you were surprised he’d come out sane.

He returned to the bed a few minutes later, wrapping his body around yours and pulling you into a hug. You still didn’t bother to open your eyes. “M’not movin’,” Dean grumbled into your hair. “It’s too friggin’ cold out there.”

“It’s Sunday,” you muttered back, “we don’t have to be anywhere.” Grinding his hips into you forced a moan from your lips. “Dean…”

“What?”

“Again?”

He grinned, laughing against you, his hands wandering south. “Baby, I’m just making up for lost time.”

 


End file.
